


Secret Santa

by justalittlegreen



Category: MASH (1970), MASH (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Secret Santa, it's election night and I can't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 01:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: flooofy floofy fluff.





	Secret Santa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flootzavut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/gifts).



> definitely takes place in the Sunshine and Filth 'verse but I wrote it out of order so didn't want it in there quite yet? Not my strongest writing either, but it's election night and I'm stressed out and this is just what needs happening, ok? Also, thank you floot.

Christmas at the 4077 was always painful. Even when it was sweet. Even when the fighting stopped and the stars came out, and if you squinted into the hills, you could convince yourself you were somewhere near Bethlehem - it always came with a sharp longing and moments of ache. Even for Hawkeye, who felt obligated to exploit the season's opportunities for mistletoe and lap-sitting. 

 _I can tell you've been a terribly naughty girl_ , he crooned at Nurse Cutler, battered Santa hat askew as he twirled his fingers in the hem of her sleeve.  _But I suppose you can make up for it by being very very good tonight._

Across the mess, BJ snickered and rolled his eyes. Everyone had their way of beating the seasonal blues. It shouldn't have shocked him that Hawk's involved as much distraction as possible. When the dark and the cold came, you did whatever you could to keep yourself warm - inside and out.

Radar slipped into a seat across from BJ, plate heaped with an unappetizing pile of - oh. Stuffing. Left from Thanksgiving, maybe. BJ swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in his throat as Radar tucked in, but was distracted when Radar pulled something out of his pocket and slid it across the table to BJ. It was a small drawstring bag that rustled slightly under Radar's hand. 

 _Pick yours,_ Radar mumbled with his mouth full.  _You can't show anyone._

BJ furrowed his brow, dipped two fingers into the pouch and pulled out a scrap of paper.He looked at what was written on it, tore the paper to tiny pieces, and let them flutter onto his untouched pile of unidentifiable lunch.

_Um, Radar? What do I do with this information?_

_Oh! I forgot it's your first Christmas, sir. We do Secret Santa here. You know, a little party at Christmas and you have to give the person you drew a gift._

BJ stammered. Oh boy.  _And...and what if you're not sure what to get the person you drew?_ he asked tentatively.

Radar looked up, alarmed.  _Oh no, sir. Did you get Major Burns?_   Before BJ could answer, he leaned in conspiritorially and whispered _I'm not supposed to do this, but I'll let you swap._

BJ grinned _._ _No, Radar, it's okay. I've got a challenge, and I'll have fun figuring it out. Don't worry._

Radar swallowed the last of his stuffing - how HAD he managed to choke that down? - and hustled off to continue his mission. BJ turned his attention back to Hawkeye's corner, resting his chin in his hand and thinking as Nurse Cutler shrieked with feigned indignation and exclaimed  _Santa! You're being rather naughty yourself._

**

The party was a typical 4077 affair - light on decorations and heavy on the liquor. Father Mulcahey took his spot at the piano and summoned the best of his repertoire while everybody tried to dance in gridlock. Hawkeye, BJ noted, was having a good time at the bar. His Santa act hadn't worn out, and now there was a line of nurses snaking their way around Rosie's. BJ wedged his way over and kicked Frank off the stool next to Hawkeye. 

 _Come here often?_ he murmured into Hawk's free ear. Hawk turned from the woman on his lap, still in character, and BJ felt the glow of having Hawk's attention turned toward him for the first time all day.

_And what about you, little BJ? Have you been very very good this year? Do you want a turn on Santa's lap to tell him what you want for Christmas?_

BJ sized up the company and decided they were all drunk enough to handle it. He smiled at the nurse and jerked his head to tell her to get up, and then stood up, so that he towered over Hawkeye, moving closer and closer until he was straddling him, though still on his feet. He was pretty sure he was the only one who noticed Hawk gulp and look up at BJ nervously. But BJ knew what he was doing. Feet still spread, he leaned back with his elbows on the bar and said  _Oh Santa, do you think you could find me  -_ he paused, enjoying Hawk's expression, which was delight mixed with a dash of pure anxiety -  _a martini that isn't made of gasoline and delusions?_

Hawkeye cracked up, and BJ felt the laughter fall on him like snowflakes. The joke wasn't great, but this - this packed room full of forged family - was worth a little joy. BJ relaxed and let himself have a moment to grin at Hawk, to pretend they were somewhere else, and Hawk looked back at him like he wanted nothing more than to kiss him. It seemed like a long minute, but it was probably only a few seconds before the piano music stopped and Colonel Potter stood on the end of the bar, clanging a glass for attention.

_Attention! Your attention, please!_

When the din didn't settle fast enough for his liking, Potter let loose with a two-fingered whistle that brought the bar to a screeching halt. Event Hawkeye looked impressed and a little taken aback.

_That's more like it. Now I know you're all waiting for the fun part, where we exhange our secret Santa gifts -_

_Oh, is that the fun part? I thought the fun part was -_

_\- Pierce, whatever filth is about to come out of your mouth, shut it._

Chuckles spread around the room. The crowd loved Hawkeye, but loved it even more when someone put him in his place.

 _Anyway_ , said Potter, clearing his throat.  _I'm going to call you up one by one and if you can't get through, just shout who your gift is for and throw it to 'em. Nurse Kellye?_

 _MAJOR HOULIHAN!_ came Kellye's shout from the back of the room. And then  _I'm going to pass it up if you don't mind, Major, it's little delicate for throwing._ The newspaper-wrapped package came hand over hand through the crowd until it reached Margaret, who was leaning against the piano. She unwrapped a coffee mug and shouted  _thank you!_ with a smile that seemed to imply the gift meant more to her than it seemed. 

 _That comes with an invitation too, Major!_ Kellye shouted back.  _Any time you want to join us, there's horrible coffee with your name on it._

That brought some applause as Margaret blushed. From there, Margaret called out Father Mulcahey and gave him a small tin of silver polish for caring for the cross on his neck, and a handwritten note that made Mulcahey's eyes brighten as he tucked it into his shirt pocket before mouthing  _you're welcome_ at Margaret. Mulcahey gifted one of the orderlies a St. Christopher medal and a package of oatmeal raisin cookies, and the parade of gifts continued. 

BJ got a round of applause for finagling a pair of real silk stockings for Klinger, who clasped his hands together and bowed in thanks across the room.  _Thank Peggy!_ BJ called.  _A woman of unparalleled class!_ Klinger beamed back. BJ settled back onto his stool, grinning. He'd gotten it right. 

Someone got Frank Burns a pair of mismatched socks, which caused Hawkeye to yell  _hey, I want that one back!_ and snatch one away, toss it to BJ, who immediately began a game of keepaway, for the fun of watching Frank chase an old sock around the room.

Frank gave BJ - much to his bemusement - a small bible, with passages about sloth and sin earmarked for his convenience.  _This was a gift from my father,_ he explained.  _My tenth birthday was my best one. And now I want you to have it._ BJ was almost - almost- touched. He managed a polite thank you, then wondered how to go about sneaking it back into Frank's belongings.

Everyone gave a shout when Igor presented Colonel Potter with sixteen cans of tomato juice, and Radar practically threw himself over the box like Potter was going to get an allergic reaction right through the cans. As Potter gazed down at the boy, looking a little lost among the flattened cardboard and rolling cans, Radar pointed up and out the window and mouthed  _look out, Sir._ Potter looked, and Klinger walked by, leading his beloved Sophie, with braids in her mane and colorful ribbon braided through her tail. Potter lifted a hand to his heart and felt the manliest of tears welling up. He looked down, and Radar's eyes were bright, too.  _Merry Christmas, sir._

And just like that, Potter broke the order and handed Radar his gift - a drawing of his mother, taken from Potter's memory of the O'Reilly's home videos. Radar looked at it and looked at it and touched it with his fingertips and whispered  _Merry Christmas, Ma,_ and anyone who wasn't sniffling already found themselves wiping their eyes as Potter offered a gentle _Merry Christmas, son_.

Finally, Radar looked up and said  _I didn't really pull the Colonel; that was just from me. I pulled you, Hawkeye_. And with a grin that could only be described as mischevious, Radar slid a thin, flat, wrapped package down the length of the bar.

Hawkeye unwrapped a corner of the paper like he knew what would be under there, and gasped before clasping the gift tightly to his chest.  _Radar! You son-of-a-gun, you found the volleyball enthusiast magazine that was missing from my collection!_

 _I'm borrowing it next!_ came a shout from the other side of the bar. The room laughed, but Hawkeye winked at Radar and hugged the package close.

And having softened the ache ever so slightly with booze, laughter, and a few well-placed gifts, the 4077 spilled out of Rosie's into the night. Hawkeye dodged through the crowd, weaving his way through invitations and well-wishes, until he found BJ heading back to The Swamp.

_B_ _eej. Beej!_

His best friend turned around.  _What is it, Hawk?_

_Come here. I think - I have to show you something._

_Are you all right?_

_Yeah, it's just - Radar drew something on this._

_What, did he draw sweaters over the cover girls or something?_

_No, he - it's on the underside of the wrapping. I think it's a message._

_Or a map - look at that, he drew the 4077!_

_And X marks the spot. And X is..._

both men swallowed hard. 

_Do you think he suspects -_

_he could, he knows everything -_

_but do you think he TOLD?_

_No, you didn't see his face when he gave it to me. I think this is supposed to be just for me...maybe for us._

_Well. We should head to Supply and see what's there. Hey, let me see that magazine._

_I'm shocked. BJ Hunnicutt, paragon of all virtue, trafficking in common filth?_

_Look, I'm married. I'm not dead. Let me see - hey!_

_Did you see that?_

_Where is it?_

_Damnit, it's on the ground, something fell - here it is. It's next to your foot, hold on. Hold on. Beej -_

_What, Hawk?_

_it's a key, Beej._

_To what?_

_I'm guessing -_

_you don't think he -_

The two men broke into a run. Hawkeye couldn't stop the flooding blush from reaching his face. If Radar knew - if he did what Hawkeye thought he did - and for them - 

he did.

_Bless that clever little clerk._

_He got us a room._

_A LOCKED room!_

_A locked room._

_Hawkeye?_

_Yes?_

_What are we doing standing here outside a locked room when you have the key in your pocket?_

_Better minds than mine have failed to answer that, my good man._

_Let's go in._

_And not come out until the next war._

_Deal._

_~fin~_


End file.
